One Last Time
by Breathing January
Summary: Harry Potter is just a normal wizard. Nothing special, not like the boy-who-lived, Neville Longbottom. The only thing that's probably slightly special about him is that he's the first Potter to be sorted into Slytherin. That's all, really. **Eventual Drarry** (And unlike this story, I already have it finished, so I won't abandon it. Updates might just be late!)
1. Year One

He stood in the line with the other fidgeting first years, a proud smile on his face. Standing on his left is a boy far to short for his age, with straight black hair and intense blue eyes. When he first talked to the boy, his dark blue eyes made him squirm. On his right side is a gorilla-like body-guard for the blonde who radiates arrogance. The blonde boy is the only other first year who isn't showing signs of being nervous. Nail's are being bitten, lips are being chewed raw, eyes are bloodshot, tiny frames are trembling. Nobody looks at the same table for too long, terrified if that's going to that's going to be their rival house or the house they might fail in the seven years to come. He didn't blame any of them for being nervous, this moment would define their life path. It would choose their friends, their enemies, their identity.

A short girl with messy blonde curls beamed as she ran off to the cheering table decked in red and gold. _Gryffindor_. She was the first Gryffindor to be sorted of their year.

They boy beside him is trembling, and he can't help but wonder if he's a muggle-born. If he were pure blood then surely he has heard how the sorting process goes. It's not that nerve-wracking.

"Corner, Michael." says a strict voice.

A thin boy with wavy brown hair and light brown eyes stumbles forward and sits on the four-legged stool. A moment later, he sits beside a second year girl with long, curly blonde hair at the blue and bronze table. _Ravenclaw_. The next boy, Andrew Craft, joins Michael in Ravenclaw.

The burly kid standing beside him stumbles toward the green and silver table. _Slytherin_.

"Cross, Lucifer."

The trembling boy beside him gives a small squeak and shuffles up to the stool, terror sparkling in his blue eyes. It takes a minute, but soon he's sitting beside the Slytherin prefect, Gemma Farley.

More names are being called and more first years are running off in different directions.

And then; "Longbottom, Neville."

Whispers erupt all over the hall.

"Longbottom?"

"Did she say Longbottom?"

"_The_ Neville Longbottom?"

The Boy-who-lived's round face gets blocked from view by the old hat.

No house has given as big of a cheer as Gryffindor did when Neville Longbottom joined them.

Then it's Morag MacDougal strutting off to the table that reminds him of bumblebees. Black and yellow, _Hufflepuff_. Ernie MacMillin isn't that far behind Morag, sitting next to him at Hufflepuff.

"Malfoy, Draco." is called and the proud blonde is strutting off to the Slytherin table, taking the empty seat beside Lucifer Cross.

Before he even realized it, they had reached, "Petillo, Carter." who scrambled off to the Hufflepuff table to sit between Ernie and Morag.

Then it was, "Potter, Harry." being called and he walked up to the four-legged stool. He sat down, all eyes on him, and blinked himself into darkness. The sorting hat had slid over his eyes and a voice started mumbling in his ear. It mumbled about the thoughts swimming around in his head. About what house would help him on the path to greatness. About the thirst to prove himself that's making his throat dry up.

Almost all to fast, Harry Potter is walking toward the cheering Slytherin table. He slips into the seat next to Theodore Nott, across from Lucifer and Draco. The prefect shakes his hand and introduces herself, Gemma. She'll be gone in two years. Jess Winkle walks down a few seats to introduce himself also. He's the other Slytherin prefect, and he'll also be gone in two years.

The sorting ceremony continues and Daniel White joins Gryffindor and Blaise Zabini sits beside Harry.

The feast starts and the food appears on the gold platter and the great hall slowly becomes to noisy.

Laughter echoes, hands are shook, teeth are flashing behind wide grins. The Great Hall fills to the brim with the murmurs of too many conversations happening at once. Harry nods along to what Blaise is saying and smiles at Lucifer and Draco when they glance at him. He hums in response to Theo's ramblings and raises an eyebrow at Gemma. He slowly adds one bite after another in his mouth until an obnoxious laugh carries across the hall, far too loudly. It carries through the stuffy air and reminds Harry where he is.

He will never remember how he got to the first floor bathroom so fast, but he has his head in the toilet either way. Everything he ate in the day is burning his throat as it works its way out his mouth again, mixed with stomach acid. Harry coughs and he splutters, but now that it's started, his stomach won't stop releasing everything it's been trying to digest. Tears well up in Harry's emerald eyes as his stomach lurches again. Then there's a warm hand on his back, and a cold one taking off his glasses. There's a tan one holding a phial in front of his face and that same cold one that took off his glasses is now on his wet cheek, tilting his head back. Glass touches his lips and liquid travels down his throat. The potion drops into his abusive stomach and it lurches again. Harry thinks, for a moment, he'll start barfing again, but instead, his stomach takes pity on him and settles down. It must've been the potion.

His glasses are held in front of his face, so he takes them with a trembling hand and slips them on his face again.

"Is this going to be a regular occurrence?" says a kind voice.

Harry turns slightly and sees the warm face of Slytherin prefect, Jess. He beams at Harry then stands up. Harry's head falls forward, though, due to pure exhaustion, and his eyes droop shut. His shoulders sag, and he very vaguely hears Jess sigh. Two hands slip under his arms and hoist him to his feet.

"I'm not proud of this." Harry mumbles as he drags his feet out of the cubicle. Standing there, waiting patiently, eyes glued to the tiled floor, is Draco and Lucifer. _'They must of been the other people helping me?'_ Harry thinks.

"It's a sickness." he mumbles again, not sure who he's talking too. His mind is foggy with exhaustion and he's not quite registering what he's saying before it tumbles past his lips. Lucifer steps forward uneasily and throws Harry's right arm around his shoulder. Harry unconsciously leans onto Lucifer and nodded lazily when Draco asked, "So, this _is_ going to be a regular occurrence?"

* * *

Later that night, Harry lay wide awake in the first year Slytherin dorms, thinking about what his parents would say once they find out that he's a Slytherin. His mother was a Gryffindor and so were all of the Potter's in history.

The taste of vomit still lingers at the back of Harry's throat.

The fire died out in the dorm an hour ago, leaving the room bathed in an eerie green glow. Being in the dungeons means living under water. The pale moonlight shines through the black lake, and the polluted water of the lakes changes the shades of the natural light.

Harry slides off his bed and places his feet gingerly on the cold floor. He grabs his wand and lazily casts a tempus charm. Glowing green numbers dance in front of his eyes; 2:02am.

Vincent Crabbe and his best friend, Gregory Goyle, who also resembles a gorilla, snore to loudly to be human. Blaise is mumbling in his sleep and Lucifer is _purring_. The purring is louder to Harry than anything else, but Harry thinks it's probably because Lucifer's bed is beside his.

As quietly as he can, Harry walks over to his trunk and pushes everything out of the way.

At the very bottom of his trunk is a watery silver-like material. Harry gripped the silk fabric, grabbed a piece of parchment and quill and stood up. He threw the cloak around his shoulders, clipped it from the inside and pulled the hood up.

Just like that, Harry was invisible, protected by the enchantments that is the Invisibility Cloak his father gave him.

The door creaked open as he left but the only person to stir at the sound was Draco.

He almost got lost, but Harry made it to the owlry by 2:36am He called down Hedwig, his snowy owl, and pulled out his self inking quill and the small piece of parchment he pocketed before. He pulled off his cloak, and Hedwig perched herself on his shoulder, and nipped at his ear affectionately. He smiled and stroked her, apologizing for not bringing a treat. Then he walked up to the window sill, and wrote a few simple words down on his paper,

_"Mom, dad, I've been sorted into Slytherin. Don't be disappointed, please. I've made really good friends so far. I'm really happy. Neville is a Gryffindor. - Harry."_

He folded the worn parchment in half and gave it to Hedwig. She hooted, clamped it between her beak and took off through the window after hearing who the letters for

When Harry got back to the form, he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, feeling like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

* * *

The first potions lesson of the year made Harry want to laugh so hard he nearly cried. Professor Snape, the potions master, is absolutely terrifying, but he's also head of Slytherin House. Therefore, he favoured those in Slytherin house.

While Snape was doing attendance at the beginning of class, he stopped at Neville's name, and sneered, "Neville Longbottom, our new celebrity."

They were listening to the potions masters long speech intently, until he caused them all to jump out of their skins by barking at Neville, "Longbottom! Tell me, where would I find a bezoar?

The buck-toothed girl sitting behind him stuck her hand up in the air instantly. She bounced on her stool and wiggled her fingers, but Snape didn't even glance at her.

"I don't know, sir." whimpered Neville.

Harry almost snorted; even he knew this.

Snape hummed and his lips twisted into a cruel smirk. Neville visibly shrank backwards.

"Lets try this again, shall we? What's the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

"I don't know, sir." Neville repeated.

Snape tilted his head to the side slightly, glaring down his hooked nose at the-boy-who-lived. He then spun around with a flourish of his black robes, strode to the front and stared down at the class.

"It seems," he drawled, "that fame isn't everything. You would find a bezoar in the stomach of a goat, _Mr. Longbottom_, and the only difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane is their name. They are physically the same plant. Write that down." his black eyes narrowed, and swept over the class. The sound of books banging against books, rustling fabric, buttons popping and zippers being unzipped filled the air as the students dug around their bags for a quill and parchment.

Instead of writing down what he already knows, Harry wrote down;

**"I'm going to piss my pants from laughing"** and shoved it closer to Lucifer, who was sitting beside him. Lucifer's eyes briefly scanned over the words before he snorted quietly and wrote back, **"Yeah, until it's you that's he's totally hating on."**

Harry dragged the paper under the desk, light's it a flame with a twist of his wrist and mumbles out of the corner of his mouth; "You're right."

* * *

The glass ball glitters as Theo Nott holds it up to the sunlight.

Its the first flying lesson of the year, and the boy-who-lived, The Neville Longbottom, doesn't know how to ride a broom. Twenty feet up in the air, Neville fell of his old broom and broke his wrist. No one was impressed with this, at all, seeing as his mother, Alice Longbottom, was one of the best Gryffindor chasers when she was at Hogwarts. The flying instructor with the yellow eyes and sort grey hair dragged him off to the hospital wing.

He just happened to have forgotten his Remembrall.

Ron Weasley, one of the many Weasley Gryffindors storms up to Theo and says, "Oi! Give that back, Nott!"

Theo grips the ball and drops his hand to his side. He turns around and looks at Ron calmly, not answering.

In his hand, the smoke in the Remembrall fades to red.

Harry strides up to Theo's side, abandoning his conversation with Lucifer and Blaise. He raises an eyebrow at Ron and says; "And why should he give it back, Weasley?"

"Because it's Neville's." seethes Ron, face turning as red as his hair. His voice trembles from frustration. He really hates Slytherin's.

"I bet that buffoon already forgot he had it." Theo drawls, and looks down at the ball in his hand. He growls at the ball, not liking the fact that he forgot something. Before Harry even had a chance to comprehend what he was doing, Theo spun on his heels and threw the ball at the wall. It shattered on impact, and a puff of red-tinted grey smoke danced in the air for a moment before evaporating.

"Bloody hell!" yelled Ron, throwing his arms up in his frustration, "Are you insane? _Bloody Slytherins_." his hands curled into fists, but he walked away before he could give into temptation and punch Theo in the face.

Theo watched him trudge off to the group of Gryffindor's for a second before shrugging and walking back to Draco, Lucifer and Blaise. Harry stepped up beside him, and asked in a low whisper; "What in the name of Merlin was that?"

"I never forget anything." was Theo's only reply, light brown eyes swirling to nearly black from anger.

* * *

All through the year, Harry always had a feeling that there was something wrong with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell. He always wore a purple turban, always smelt like garlic and always stuttered.

However, when Harry heard the rumor about what happened in the dungeons, and how Neville Longbottom faced off with Quirrell and how Voldemort was attached to him or his soul or _whatever_, he thought it made sense.

That doesn't mean he was anymore happy with Gryffindor beating Slytherin and winning the house cup at last minute, though.

* * *

On the train ride home from Hogwarts, Lucifer was more quiet than normal.

Harry was sitting with him, Theo, Blaise, and Draco but no one else seemed to notice his silence. Harry was smiling and nodding along with the three other boys but his eyes kept traveling over to Lucifer.

As the sun began to set, Harry stood up, told them he needed to stretch his legs and asked if Lucifer would like to come. The quiet boy shrugged and stood up and Harry, just as he was about to slide the door shut behind him, heard Blaise, Theo and Draco pick up their conversation before Harry interrupted them.

They walked in silence for a while, Harry and Lucifer, until Harry said, rather bluntly, "You don't want to go home." without glancing at Lucifer.

"Exactly." answered Lucifer with no hesitation.

"Then don't." Harry glanced at Lucifer quickly.

"Why?"

"What's the point?"

"There's no point in - "

"Why not?"

"Where would I go?

"My parent's wouldn't mind."

It was like they were having two different conversations until Harry said this. Lucifer closed his mouth so fast his jaw popped. He looked at Harry and said quietly, "If I move somewhere else, they'll know I told someone."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"You don't know them." Lucifer's voice was slightly unsettling.

Harry turned around, and started heading back to their compartment, not saying anything. He may not know Lucifer's parents, but he knows of them, and in his opinion, Lucifer shouldn't live there. He shouldn't even be allowed to have contact with them.

"Maybe when I'm older." Came Lucifer's voice, from Harry's left.

"You shouldn't live there, at all. They're monsters."

_"They're family."_

"No! They aren't!" Harry stopped abruptly and faced the slightly shorter boy, "If they treat you like they do, they are not family. They're no better than Voldemort." Lucifer flinched at the name, which unnoticed by Harry. Lucifer raised his eyes and met Harry's unwavering green gaze. Harry could see all the gears working behind Lucifer's blue gaze, all the thoughts running around, screaming and echoing in his ears, all the despair shattering like glass and hope building up slowly like a brick wall.

Tears burned behind Lucifer's eyes and he rubbed at them furiously with the heel of his palm. Harry clapped a hand to his back and started to usher him back to the compartment, his arm around Lucifer's shoulder.

They reached platform 9 and 3/4's not long after that, and Harry beamed at his parents. He said goodbye to Draco, Blaise and Theo, and frowned at Lucifer. His parents looked horribly unpleasant and Draco seemed bothered by the fact that Lucifer didn't look back at them or say goodbye.


	2. Year Two

"_You're insane_!"

These words echoed off the stone walls and bounced off the black walls of his mind. His green eyes narrowed at Theo and bared his teeth in an ugly scowl. It wasn't the first time he's called insane. However, it was the first time it wasn't a joke.

"And how are you going to prove that?" he hissed.

Theo's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened in disbelief, "You're hearing voices in the bloody walls!" He splutters.

"So is Neville Longbottom. Are you going to run off and tell the stupid boy-who-lived that he's insane too? Or do you just say that to your friends?" He drawled, voice as cold as ice.

"Yeah, actually, I would tell Longbottom he's off his bloody rocker and I'd tell him so are you so you can run off and be bloody mental with him instead of wasting my time!"

Now that hurt. After all they were through in their first year at Hogwarts, even though it wasn't much, that may have gone a bit too far. Was he really wasting Theo's time? His stomach clenched from nerves and anxiety and in a blur of colours, Harry was leaning over a toilet, tasting his stomach acid once again.

Footsteps pounding on the tile floor told Harry that Theo followed him. The door to the cubicle he was in swung open and Theo instantly dropped to his knees beside Harry. He took off Harry's glasses and started rubbing circles on his back while mumbling out how sorry he was.

It wasn't really his fault. They may have been fighting but really, Harry's sickness wasn't Theo's fault. He didn't purposefully trigger it. It's all just nerves and panic, and anxiety.

_But if it weren't for this_, Harry idly thinks as he heaves again, _I wouldn't have the control that I do._

* * *

In Harry's opinion, Gildroy Lockhart is an air-headed fool, and Snape should be the one calling Lockhart his assistant. Gildroy Lockhart is Hogwarts new Defense Against the Darks Art this, now that Quirrell is dead.

This year, though, so far the care takers cat, Mrs. Norris and a Gryffindor had both been petrified by an unknown source and Lockhart decided to talk to Dumbledore and start a duelling club.

Blaise and Lucifer had thought it would be a good idea to drag Harry along, with Draco, Crabbe and Goyle following. Theo has taken up the habit of avoiding Harry since their argument. It doesn't really bother Harry much, because he hasn't heard _that_ voice in a while.

Lockhart started to pair people up to duel against each other and Harry was unfortunate enough to get partnered with the obnoxious boy-who-lived.

Neville met Harry's cold glare, shuddered and looked over his shoulder at Lockhart. He asked if he could have a different partner, but Harry would have none of that. He called over to Neville; "Scared, Longbottom?"

Neville slowly looked back at Harry, drew in a deep breath, and walked forward. Harry met him halfway, smirked, and gave him an over-exaggerated mock bow, crossing his feet, and tilting his head down, and pulling open his robes. He could hear some students snickering.

He vaguely registered Neville bowing to him, also.

Lockhart counted down to three and Harry couldn't wait. Before Lockhart finished saying 'three' he had pointed his wand and pronounced, "Rictusempra" under his breath, eyes narrowed. A jet of silver light hit Neville in the stomach and he doubled over, wheezing. Lockhart was yelling about 'disarming only' as Neville sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a tickling jinx, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry was a good sport, he wouldn't hex Neville while he was down. Snape lazily removed the jinx, and Neville stood up, gasping, and glaring at Harry.

After a few moments of Lockhart skittering through the crowd and trying to help, he decided to choose a pair of students to demonstrate a blocking charm.

Snape picked Neville and Harry.

The crowd backed away as the two boys were ushered to the middle of the hall. Lockhart was talking to Neville, who looked quite uneasy. Snape moved closer to Harry and bent down to whisper in his ear.

Harry smirked.

Lockhart counted down again, after the two of them gave a half-ass bow, and Harry quickly pointed and shouted out; "Serpensortia!"

There was a small blast and a long black snake erupted from Harry's n. It slithered along, flicked it's tail and hissed menacingly. Neville watched it for a moment, eyebrows furrowed before Lockhart exclaimed that he'll get rid of it, and sent it twenty feet in the air. It fell to the floor with a dull thud and, more angered than before, shot towards the Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchey. It raised itself in a fighting stance and that's when Neville stepped forward, eyes wide and hissing. His voice was disoriented but Harry understood that he was telling the snake to leave Justin alone.

Harry scowled, and turned to the now slumped to the floor snake; "_Yes_," he said, "_Go after the boy trying to boss you around, why don't you?_" he said sarcastically.

The snake turned to Harry, flicked it's long tongue, and coiled around to face Neville, who was staring wide-eyed at Harry, his jaw on the floor.

Snape stepped forward then, and vanished the snake with an easy flick of his wand.

* * *

"I told you!" yelled Harry, "I didn't actually think the blasted thing would listen to me!"

Lucifer gaped at him for a moment, eyebrows raised. He looked over his shoulder at the closed door of the second year boy's dormitory and then turned back to Harry.

"Of course the thing would listen to you! You were speaking Parsletongue!" He yelled back.

"I'm not a damn descendant of Salazar Slytherin! I can't speak the fucking language!"

"But. You. Were!" Lucifer punctuated every word.

"Where would I have learnt Parsletongue?" asked Harry, emerald eyes nearly black from anger.

"You never know, maybe you are a descendant of Slytherin. Do you know your family history?" retorted Lucifer, sounding remarkably calmer from a second before, but his blood is still boiling.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I **do** know my family history. I'm not a Slytherin. I don't know how I spoke Parsletongue!" Harry threw his hands up in frustration, and turned around. Lucifer put a hand on his hip and pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed. He sighed and said; "_What are you then?_" defeat evident in his smooth voice.

* * *

Hermione Granger, second year Gryffindor, and best friends with Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley, had been petrified. The Quiddich match betweenHufflepuff and Gryffindor had been cancelled because of this.

Instead of going to the Quidditch game, Harry fire called his godfather from the fire place in the common room when it was only him and Draco there. Sirius Black's head appeared in the green flames and Draco knelt on the floor beside Harry.

"Hello, Sirius!" Harry grinned.

"Hello, Harry! Something you need?" asked Sirius, as happy as ever.

"Actually, yes. I was wondering... If you knew that I could speak... Parsletongue.." Harry was slow in saying this, hesitant, and trying to not look at Sirius and yet watching for his reaction at the same time. Sirius said nothing, so he continued; "And I was wondering if you knew how.. I can speak it, I mean.. And, don't tell my parents about this conversation, please. I don't know what they would think of it."

Sirius only frowned. Draco's silver eyes never left Siruis' face, watching his emotions as intently as he could, because Harry wasn't doing that.

"I'm sorry, Harry. My assumptions on that topic may be wrong, and you are far to young to know about all that anyways. Your parents will tell you when they feel it is necessary." Said Sirius, suddenly not so happy, and far too sophisticated for Harry to deem normal. He ran a hand through his long hair, and sighed "If that is all, I have to be going." and with that, Sirius disappeared and Harry just sat there, blinking.

* * *

Harry sat at the Slytherin table, eyes trained on the boy-who-lived at Gryffindor. The hall was filled to the brim with noise as Gryffindor was awarded the house cup again. Lucifer elbowed Harry in the side, grinning, and told Harry to lighten up. Harry sighed. Lucifer was right. What's done is done. Harry can't go back to before Neville fought that blasted Basilisk in Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, and change things.

Ever since Longbottom came to Hogwarts, followed by his stupid House-cup-winning adventures, Slytherin has always been second.

It's really getting on Harry's nerves.


	3. Year Three

There was a lot of commotion going on outside the train compartment that Harry, Draco, Lucifer and Pansy Parkinson were all sitting in. Pansy, a hard-faced Slytherin girl in their year, grinned and stood up. She turned to Draco, grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the compartment, gleeful in the opportunity for new gossip. Draco glanced back at Harry and Lucifer, pleading with his eyes to at least come with, if they wouldn't attempt to get her away from him. So, Lucifer and Harry got up and followed the pair.

A Seventh year Ravenclaw had a seventh year Slytherin, that Harry recognized but at the moment, he couldn't recall the name, pushed against the wall. They were fighting, yelling out obscenities to each other that Harry couldn't understand because they just kept yelling over one another. The only part he did understand was when the Ravenclaw reached past the Slytherin and popped open the train door.

Wind rushed into the hallway immediately and Harry had to grab hold of the door frame to balance himself against the pull. The Ravenclaw grabbed the robes of the Slytherin, slammed him against the wall once, then pushed him out the door. Lucifer and Draco bother covered their mouths. Pansy shrieked, along with many other watching girls. Harry's eyebrows rose, and he continued to watch on unlike other people. Before the doomed Slytherin lost his balance completely on the threshold of the doorway, he grabbed hold of the Ravenclaw's wrist and dragged him out the moving train with him.

Harry stepped forward, slowly, dragging his feet so the wind itself wouldn't tear him out the door, too. His knuckles were white with how tightly he was gripping the window frame. When he got close to the door, he leaned forward a bit, and pulled it back with an easy thought up summoning spell, _accio_ _door,_ and locked it.

Then it was silent.

* * *

Jess Winkle never got to graduate, which was unfortunate. His grades were nothing worse than Outstandings. He had been the Slytherin prefect, since he was fifteen, and was appointed Head Boy for his Seventh year. He was the one person who broke all the stereotypes for Slytherin house, with his smile that could light up a room. It was a pity, the way he had die. Doing his seventh year was always something he looked forward, too, because he was excited for the new classes. It's a tragedy that he didn't even get to see the magnificent castle one last time, or say any good byes.

They held a memorial for him on the first day of school.

* * *

James Potter gave his son the Marauders Maps when he turned thirteen, because James was thirteen when he made the map with Sirius, Remus and Peter. When James had walked into Harry's room, that one day during summer break, and dropped the blank, worn piece of parchment onto the desk, Harry looked at him like he was insane. James had grinned at him, lopsidedly, and said "Don't look at me like that! It's a wrench, giving this too you, but I'm no longer at Hogwart's anyway..." he had trailed off at that, and his hazel eyes unfocused. He stared blankly at the parchment for a moment, Harry studying him curiously. Then he shook himself back into reality and said; "You should think this is an honor, getting this map!"

"Map?" Harry asked, disbelievingly.

"Yes, map!" Scoffed Harry's father. Then he pulled his wand from his pocket, touched the worn parchment with the tip and said; "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And right before Harry's eyes, like a spider weaving a web, names and footsteps appeared, and passageway's and corridor's crawled across the parchment..

Harry's standing in the middle of the third year boy's dormitory, holding the Marauder's Map in his hands, tapping his foot. No one else is in the dorm with him, all of them are in the Common Room. Except for Draco.

Draco has been missing for the past few hours now, since around dinner. He wasn't even there for the whole meal, leaving half way through it, to go to the Common room and then leaving the Common Room before anyone else got back. At first, Harry wasn't worried, because Draco had been acting different all through the year, and Harry figured he was just dealing with something that would blow over. He just didn't expect him to disappear.

"Aha!" Harry shouted, straightening out the map more. Then he shifted his eyes toward the door, and tensed up a bit, hoping no one downstairs heard that.

Draco is in the Astronomy tower.

Pansy is making her way down the stairs, probably wanting to get back before curfew hit.

Draco's still not moving, just standing on the ledge of the window. Harry folds up the map, pulls off his Slytherin sweater and takes off toward the Astronomy tower. The fires are dimmed, and his footsteps echo remarkably in the empty, dry corridors. He passes Pansy, but she only glares at him. He places a silencing charm on himself, specifically his shoes, after she's a few steps away from him, so no one can hear him. There isn't one of those on Pansy. Her heels click obnoxiously loud as she strides back to the Slytherin Common Room.

Once he's far enough from her, Harry pulls the map from his back pocket, checks where she is, which is in the dungeons now, and checks on Draco, who still hasn't moved. Harry frowned at Draco's name.

The metal stairs creak under Harry's weight, so he runs up them, trying to put as little pressure on them as possible.

The door to the tower is ajar when Harry reaches the landing, so he gingerly pushes it open and winces when it squeaks slowly. Draco whips around, wand in hand, looking frantic, eyes ablaze and alert. When he realizes it's just Harry intruding, and standing in the now open doorway, he relaxes, puts his wand away and turns around.

"How did you find me?" his quiet voice travels through the chill night air, void of emotion.

"Pansy did, so why not me?" Replies Harry.

"How'd you know Pansy was here?"

Harry hesitates, mentally debating if he should tell Draco about the map or not. No one knows about it yet, at school at least. The silence drags on far too long, Harry notices, so he stupidly blurts out, "Map." his voice cracking.

"A Map?" Draco confirms, voice smooth.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" Harry changes the subject, mentally noting to explain the map later.

"Debating."

"Over what?" Harry steps away from the door and walks up to Draco. The moonlight is cold and Draco's alabaster skin looks silver under it. A tentacle belonging to the giant squid slowly rises from the black lake, and stretches. It's soon joined by another one, and then a short one, breaking the surface. Ripples break across the onyx surface of the lake, due to the disturbance of the tired tentacles.

"Jumping."

If anyone were to look at Harry Potter at that moment, he would come across as emotionless. Un-phased. And at first, he is un-phased by this statement. Until the words really sink into his skin and he really gets the meaning and then he still looks calm about the fact that his best friend is contemplating suicide. But inside, he's freaking out, having a mental break down. That's the only thing that can explain what Harry's doing - mentally breaking down.

And Harry would like to call this a _moment_ between him and Draco but it doesn't feel like. Not with the unspoken explanation of suicide even being an option lingering in the air between them. It taints everything.

And even though Harry now has Draco in his bed, because he was paranoid and wasn't sure if Draco would leave later in the night to fulfill his momentary desires, Harry doesn't sleep.

* * *

His third year at Hogwarts was the first year Slytherin won the house cup since he started attending the magical school. No one cheered except the Slytherins.

But he didn't cheer as loud, or smile as bright when they won. He didn't clap as long or congratulate people.

No, Harry wasn't as happy as he could've been about winning, because beside him, Draco wasn't even smiling.


	4. Year Four

It's a known fact across Hogwarts that Ron Weasley isn't talking to Neville Longbottom at the moment. Not ever since Longbottom's name shot out of the Goblet of Fire. But seeing Weasley humiliate Longbottom in front of what seemed like the entire school was a whole different story.

Who knew that Weasley, of all people, would have the guts to humiliate his supposed 'best friend'? Harry could only blink and stare at the red faced boy-who-lived until Draco grabbed his elbow and dragged him off. Harry heard Longbottom sigh, a sigh that sounded as if it came from somewhere deeper than his lungs.

Harry didn't feel bad for him, not in the least. As a matter of fact, Harry and Draco stayed up all night last night creating badges that read about Cedric Diggory being the true Hogwarts Champion, and if you pressed the badge into your chest slightly, they change to read "Longbottom Stinks." It was Draco's idea, Harry just helped in the making of them. But it's true, apparently in more than half of the schools opinion, because many of the students were wearing the badges now.

Cedric Diggory is the true Hogwarts Champion for the Triwizard Tournament, not Longbottom.

* * *

"Tense, Longbottom?" called Harry, a smirk on his face as Longbottom rushed by. His feet were fast and his shoulders were hunched, his entire body stiff. Yeah, he was tense.

Draco jumped out of the tree Harry was standing in front of with a few other friends. He took a step, and slipped between Lucifer and Harry.

Longbottom stopped and turned abruptly, glaring daggers at them.

"You see," Harry continued when he didn't get an answer, and he took a couple slow steps closer, his smirk growing, "Malfoy and I have a bet."

Theo and Blaise's attention were locked in a heated argument with each other before now. They're attention has averted to Harry.

Draco smirked, "Potter here doesn't think you'll last ten minutes in this tournament." he drawled from behind Harry.

"He disagrees, of course." scoffed Harry, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to gesture at Draco, "Malfoy doesn't think you'll last five."

Longbottom growled, a disturbing and odd sound vibrating from the back of his throat. Then, he turned on his heels, and strode away, not saying a word.

Lucifer couldn't help but grin at the way they got under Longbottom's skin like that. He doesn't think he'll ever forget that unfamiliar murderous look on Longbottom's face for that split second. He'll never be more mad than when Draco and Harry team up against him.

* * *

Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened his posture. he wanted more than anything to lean on Lucifer but he feels as though that'll show signs of weakness, and he isn't weak. Not even when he's hacking up his lungs because of his anxiety.

But Lucifer had his arm around his waist, so he leant on him a bit while mindlessly vanishing the vomit behind the tree.

There's chatter and cheers emitting from the stadium that is the Quidditch pitch. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on Lucifer's shoulder. He really doesn't want to go back in there, but his friends are all in there, expecting him to sit with them, and feel okay. He never feels okay in loud, large places.

Lucifer dropped his arm as Harry took his own weight again, and asked if he thought he would be okay to go back. Harry nodded, thinking that's he's getting older, he should be able to pull his shit together.

They slowly headed back toward the stadium in silence, but they stayed standing at one of the entrances, instead of climbing the bleachers to their spots with Draco, Blaise, Theo and Pansy. They watched the last champion, Fleur Delacour, enter the maze.

A couple of minutes after the silver-haired girl disappeared in the looming green walls, Draco silently joined them, and took refuge beside Harry.

"Feeling better?" he asked, not even glancing at Harry.

With a sigh, Harry said, "Much."

"Will it ever stop?"

"You can only hope, I guess."

Beside Harry, Lucifer sighed irritably and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What?" snapped Harry, turning his head fast to face Lucifer.

"There are pills to make it stop, both wizard and muggle." suggested Lucifer.

"I don't believe in medication." Harry stated, voice more confident than he suddently felt.

"Why not?" asked Draco.

"It really only makes things worse." before they got a chance to question him any further, Harry turned and left. Lucifer and Draco both gaped at his retreating form for a moment before Draco shook himself and pulled Lucifer away. Lucifer hesitated to go with Draco for a brief moment, because he wanted to call after Harry, tell him to come back, to trust him, to talk to him.

But Draco tugged at him and said, "It's best if he has sometime alone right now."

The truth is, Harry's mother has had an addiction to these muggle pills for a couple years. Since the year before Harry first started at Hogwarts, as a matter of fact. She has overdosed a few times, and he's come home during breaks to find that she was in the Hospital and it was just going to be him and his Father for the time. It's been hard on him, and sometimes he wants to rip her throat out so she can't swallow the pills that are killing her anymore.

Her skin has gone from glowing healthy pale to ashen grey. Her bones protrude from her paper thin skin because the only thing she ever consumes are these tiny white pills. Harry and his father don't even know what they are or where she gets them. All they know is they're killing her, and she's threatened to kill them before at the suggestion of getting help or taking the pills away.

Harry decided he didn't want to be anywhere at the moment.

It's times like these he just wants to disappear.

* * *

Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum had emerged from the Enchanted Maze already, surprisingly still sane. They're standing with their friends, and the crowd had only just quieted down from Viktor's return when Harry slipped into a spot beside Pansy Parkinson. She was sitting with a couple other girls in Slytherin in front of Theo, Lucifer, Draco and Blaise.

Lucifer beamed when Harry turned around to smile at the four of them. Absolutely beamed.

But then there was a crack that pierced the air and it quieted the crowd to a dead silence and Cedric Diggory stumbled out of the maze, his eyes haunted and face pale under the dirt and grime. In his arms was an unconscious Longbottom and everyone broke out into cheers and song and applause.

Until Fleur let out a blood curdling scream.

And Cedric dropped the limp body on the ground. He fell to his knees beside Neville, hyperventilating, and burying his face in his hands. Harry only vaguely registered Lucifer whispering, "Oh, Merlin, no." before everything sped ahead.

Draco's breath hitched and he lost his balance to a buckled knee. People started screaming and crying, and rushing off the bleachers to get a better look and the band stopped playing their instruments. Harry had to swallow his rising vomit before turning around to slip his hands under the arms of Draco, He hoisted him to his feet, grabbed his arm, and started down the bleachers.

Draco's grey eyes were red and dry, Harry noticed as he dragged the blonde out of the busy stadium. All he could think about was what possibly could be going through Draco's mind at this very moment.

* * *

The rolling hills covered in calming green, the forests' lining the horizon - standing tall against the cloudless sky, the cattle roaming free in the seemingly endless fields. It all rushed by in a blur as Draco and Harry sat across from each other in the otherwise empty compartment. Lucifer, Blaise, Theo and Pansy were in another compartment somewhere else on the train.

The reason why Draco and Harry were alone? Neither of them quite knew.

Was it uncomfortable? Neither could tell.

It was silent, with only the distant sound of clinking metal and the woman selling sweets asking with her wispy voice, "Anything from the trolly, dears?"

Harry and Draco knew she would be reaching their compartment soon, but neither wish to speak at the moment. They've come to a silence that they haven't experienced before. They don't know what it'll be like if it's broken, but it won't be the same. Not awkward, or stiff, or uncomfortable. Just different.

It won't be the silence that will breathe for you when you seem to forget how to drag the air into your lungs. It won't cry for you when you're at your weakest and you just need too, but you know it's a cowardly thing sometimes and you wish you just didn't forget how to cry. It won't speak the words you can't get out of your dry throat. It won't listen to you at 4 am when you don't know who else to go to or what else to do.

Harry knew he wanted to question Draco, but he couldn't think of the right questions.

She was at the compartment next to theirs now, asking "Anything from the trolly, dears?" And thankfully, they said yes, so that will occupy her for a moment. Harry can't help but wonder if she ever gets tired of saying that over and over. But it's hard to imagine her doing anything else.

And then she's sliding open their compartment door, with load creaks from the slightly rusted metal and she's asking again if they would like "anything from the trolly, dears?"

Harry looks away from Draco, to smile at her and say, "No thank you," with a nod, and the only thought he has is, 'well, fuck.'

He wonder's if it's to late to continue with the silence, but the door is sliding back in place and Harry's looking back at Draco, who's now staring back at him. His eyes watch the movement of his hand as Harry pushes his glasses back up his nose. Then Draco reaches over and pulls them off his face, and Harry's world goes so blurry that it's almost like looking through frosted glass. He can't see draco, but he hears him say, "I can fix your vision, you know." quietly.

"Can you?" asks Harry lightly, nonchalantly. He honestly knows how easy it is to fix his eye sight, but his father wouldn't have it. Says that the glasses are a Potter tradition, every Potter's been blind and they've all had matching glasses and they won't stop that anytime soon.

But cold wood is being pressed to the skin between his eyebrows, and Draco mumbles an incoherent spell that Harry's never heard before and then he isn't looking through frosted glass anymore. That's not the way he learnt to fix his eye sight.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they do, Harry looks at Draco. Really looks at Draco. They stare at each other for a moment, but Draco eventually averts his gaze to the glasses he's mindlessly playing with. He bends the bridge of them experimentally and looks back up at Harry, "May I?" he says, holding up the glasses. Harry nods once and grimaces at the sound it makes when Draco breaks them in half.

"Why is death such a hard thing for you?" Harry finally asks that question. The question that Draco didn't want to hear but knew was coming and knew he had to answer. The question Harry had wanted to ask for a long time, but didn't really want to know the answer too, because maybe it had a back story to it, like why he doesn't like medication.

Draco's been trying to answer this question himself since Jess Winkle died at the beginning of Third year and he was devastated for quite some time.

Although he doesn't have the answer yet, Draco does have a question that would stump them both, "Why shouldn't it be?"

"You hardly knew Jess and you despised Longbottom. So, why?" came his rushed reply, and Draco blinked at him owlishly.

Harry's right, but he's also so wrong. It matters not who died. What is such a hard thing for him to process is the fact that someone can have their life, soul, taken from them as easily as a candle being blown out. That energy can be pumped out of someone as slowly and painfully as a fatal wound bleeding out. And when it happens to someone he knows, it just makes it all the more real that death can happen to anyone at any time. It sickens him, sometimes, troubles him to great lengths.

He never fails to worry himself with nightmares of people he genuinely care about dying in the most gruesome of ways.

But Draco doesn't know how to put this into words, no matter how badly he wants to spill everything to Harry. So, he sucks in a deep breath, and holds it for a moment while thinking, then exhales slowly.

"Just, drop it, alright, Potter?"


	5. Year Five

"Can you fill in for seeker for me this up coming game against Ravenclaw?"

Harry dropped the book he was reading onto his lap in utter shock. He lifts his eyes to Draco's, whose standing over him as he sits in the leather chair placed in the half-filled Slytherin common room. Harry opens his mouth, then closes it again. He blinks hard once and finally spits out the first thought that comes to his still slightly in shock mind: "Are you fucking kidding?" but he already knows the answer before Draco says it because it's screaming at him through the grey depths of Draco's eyes.

"No, of course not."

"I've never trained once in my entire life for Quidditch." That was just the beginning of Harry's panicked rant, "I barely know how to play the game! I've only ever ridden a broom twice in my life! Once when I was seven, because my dad put me on a training broom for kids and I started crying when I could no longer feel the ground under my feet?! And once in first year! FIRST YEAR! I'm terrified of heights! I have never trained, never trained - "

his voice trailed off slightly, and Draco cut in with "-you said that already"

Harry continued like he never even heard Draco " - I don't even own a bloody broom, Draco! And I have not forgotten the school brooms from flying class in first year! I am not riding those! And the game in is five days! I can't do it! Why do you even need me too?!" Harry finally stopped ranting, breathing shallowy. His face was slightly flushed and there was only panic in his green eyes.

The only Draco said was: "You can borrow my broom."

"Draco!"

"Fine! Listen, if you do this for me, I promise I'll train with you for however long you want every day till the game." Draco gave in, exasperated.

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. He made a gesture with his hand and then opened his mouth again, "You're missing the point!"

"I was afraid of heights, too, you know. Until I rode a broom. It's different, Harry. Just do this, okay?" He sounding close to begging, but Malfoy's don't beg.

"Fine," And every Potter is a push over. Harry spoke through gritted teeth, "Let's go right now, then." He picked his book up from his lap, put it on the table eside the chair and stood up, stretching his back like a cat. Draco sighed and turned around, heading to the boys dorm,

"Alright. Let's get changed into something warmer, it's cold out."

The sun was bleeding pink, red and gold at the horizon, casting warm streaks dancing across the black lake. Draco just came back from the broom shed, two Nimbus 2001's over his shoulders. One is his, while the other belongs to Lucifer. The only way they can tell which broom belongs to whom is because in second year, after Lucifer became a Slytherin Chaser and Draco, the Slytherin Seeker, Harry carved their names into their respectable brooms. They each for their brooms the day before try-outs, which Harry watched.

"I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this..." Harry kept mumbling to himself as he watched the ground underneath him disappear.

Draco was talking, and he really was trying to pay attention, but there was a loud buzz in his ears and his brain kept sending unpleasent tingles down his spine.

When he looked up, Draco was suddenly flying away from him, and Harry panicked and screamed out his name.

"Yes, Harry?" His sweetly sarcastic voice came dancing back to Harry with the wind.

But Harry's words died on his tongue as Draco turned around and faced him.

This might sound cheesy, but on that day in the Astronomy tower in third year, Harry couldn't help but think of how beautiful Draco looked. But that day does not compare to right now.

Draco's hair had a slight red tint to it, due to the setting sun, but there was a golden shine within the red that gave the effect of having a halo. He grinned at Harry, his lips looking a bit more red than usual, and one dimple dug into his left cheek. Both of his cheeks were flushed pink with excitement. Silver eyes blinked innocently at him as Harry leaned forward on his broom and pulled up in front of Draco.

He tried to form words again, but instead, reached behind Draco's head and grasped the snitch that was waiting for him.

He pulled his hand around and held the snitch between his fingers in Draco's eye line, then he let it go again, laughing lightly.

To Draco's surprise, Harry was a natural at this.

They landed on the pitch an hour or so later, and Harry fidgeted on his feet for a moment before looking up and smiling like a mad man again. He gave the snitch back to Draco and apologized for catching it before him so many times.

"Merlin, don't apologize! It's a good thing! We should do this more often, I really need some competition. And anyways, as long as you know what you're doing as a seeker, you don't really need to know anything else."

"I guess you're right." Sighed Harry.

"I'm always right." Scoffed Draco, sticking his nose in the air.

* * *

The dormitory was absolutely quiet, save for the rustle of paper every now and then as Lucifer turned the pages of his book. No one else is in the dorm wth him at the moment, but if he focusses hard enough, he can hear the murmur of the conversations going on in the Common Room.

Suddenly, theres quiet footsteps in the corridor outside and Lucifer holds his breath, hoping it's not a fifth year boy.

The door creaked open and Harry stepped in, much to Lucifer's chagrin.

With three long strides, Harrys at the side of Lucifer's bed and with the grace of a cat, he flops on the bed, feet on Lucifer's pillows and hands behind his head. Lucifer just continues to read, flipping the page and frowning when Harry prods him in the sie with his toe.

"Oi! Cross, put that book down." snapped Harry, prodding him in the side again.

Lucifer let out a ragged sigh and put his book off to the side, "What do you want, Potter?" he asks, fake malice lining his voice.

"You're gay, right?"

Lucifer blinked at Harry and tilted his head, "Where would you get that idea?" he says casually.

Harry rolls his eyes and looks at Lucifer with a lazy smirk, "Lucifer," he says, "Come on."

"So I may be gay. What of it?"

Harry sits up, grabs Lucifer by the collar of his shirt and drags him into a clumsy kiss.

* * *

Harry pops a lemon drop in his mouth, offered to him by Headmaster Dumbledore. Lily and James Potter sit on either side of him, James looking as cheery as ever, not a care in the world, and Lily looking worried, wringing her hands. Dumbledore's normally twinkling eyes are steeled over, almost to serious to be taken seriously.

The green flames in the fire place roar and Sirius steps into the office. He greets Harry and claps his hand down onto James shoulder.

After Sirius sat beside James, the flames roared again and Remus stepped through, dusting off the soot and ash, beaming at everyone. He sat beside Lily and then Dumbledore placed a newspaper on his desk.

The media has started attacking Cedric Diggory, sayng he's lying about the return of Voldemort. Harry watched the photo of Cedric. right after he came out of the Enchanted Maze during the Triwizard Tournament. He's still covered in dirt and blood, his eyes shifting back and forth as if he expects Voldmeort to jump out of no where and kill him next.

"Do you know what a Prophecy is, Harry?" asked Dumbledore. Lily and Remus sucked in a deep breath. James looked away and Sirius' eyes went wide. Obviously, they knew something Harry did not.

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, "No, sir. I never did quite pay attention in Divination."

Dumbledore smiled at him, and started explaining, "It is a predicition made by a Seer. You see, Harry, 16 years ago a Prophecy was made, threatening the power Voldemort had. I, myself, had witnessed this Prophecy, but I was not the only one. A young Death Eater had overheard it was the Seer was saying, and informed Voldemort, thus resulting in him trying to kill Neville Longbottom while he was an infant.

But the Prophecy did not specifiy Mr. Longbottom. It spoke of a boy born at the end of July."

Lily interuppted, "Is it really necessary to tell him this, sir?"

Harry looked away from Dumbledore, and shot a look at his mom, "What's he talking about, mum?"

Sighing, Lily looked down at her hands, and started picking at her nails, "He's probably going to tell you about how.. Before Voldemort went to Longbottoms, he came to our house. Peter Pettigrew, an old friend of your fathers, had let him in. He betrayed us." Her voice choked up and she stopped talking.

Silence crept up on all of the like a snake does it's prey. It coiled tightly around Harry, squeezing his neck and blocking his air passage. He whipped his head around to his dad, wide eyes locking with Jame's hazel eyes. He had a guess of what they were trying to say, but it seemed to surrel, so unrealistic.

He had to say it, "Dad? I still don't understand."

James' adams apple bobbed on his throat as he gulped, hard. Sirius sighed, put a hand on James' shoulder, "You were probably, one and a half, I think." Started Sirius, "Halloween night. Remus, Peter and I were over at your house when he walked through the front door like he did it everyday. When he noticed that you were a half-blood, he was furious at Peter for leading him to the wrong child. He assumed it would be the pure-blood. He killed Peter, right there, and left."

The silence after Sirius' story only tightened harder around Harry's throat. He shook his head, doubtful as to what was being told to him. It sounded ridiculous. Sirius removed his hand from James' sholder and looked at the floor between his feet. Harry looked back at Dumbledore.

"What's the point of telling me this?" he snapped.

"I feel you are still too young to learn the rest of this theory, dear boy. You may go."

Harry stood up, his legs feeling horribly numb. His spine was tingling and his eyes were unfocused. _What else is there to know? _Harry thought to himself as he made his way to the door, and stepped onto the descending stairs.

* * *

He clenched his teeth together and kept writing. He watched the shining red ink smear across the paper. It made him sick, this womans idea of detention. He squeezed his right hand into a fist, failing in his attempts to ignore his burning flesh and pooling blood. The quill continued to scratch along the parchment, forming the same words over and over, _I must not tell lies._

It scratched his bone and bit down on his tongue. Tears burned behind his eyes as pain shot along his nerves, dancing a top his bones. He pried his eyes open and wrote ones more line, _I must not tell lies._

His hand twitched as the words were carved into his hand again in the already open wound. He bit down on his tongue harder when the pain once again used his bones as a playground.

He could feel her sick gaze watching him writh, but he wouldn't stop.

The deep red blood smeared on the paper as his hand dragged across it. He didn't mean to smear it, but he's left handed. It's hard not to spread the wet ink.

Blood started to pool on the corner of his lips due to the hole his teeth dug into his tongue. Until a drop of blood fell onto his parchment, he didn't know that there was _that _much blood in his mouth. He could taste it.

_I must not tell lies. _His nerves tingled under the pain tearing it's way up his arm with every newly carved letter.

"It's been one hour. You may leave now, Mr. Cross." echoed her sickening sweet voice.

"Yes, Professor Umbridge." Lucifer mumbled, and put down the quill. He picked up his bag and left the overly pink office, his left hand numb and coated in blood.

* * *

As he walked down the corridors, he left a trail of red liquid, not really caring enough to take a detour to the hospital wing.

Lucifer Cross did not sleep that night.

There were no more pranks being pulled around the school.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team got two new beaters and a new chaser.

Draco was suddenly top of every class as Hermione Granger's grades dropped.

Bill and Charlie Weasley showed up at Hogwarts three days before winter holiday's to pick up the rest of the Weasley children.

The Gryffindor table was oddly silent for every meal for those three day's, not a single Gryffindor having anything to say. They didn't answer questions during class. They didn't play well in Quidditch.

the silence was something Harry thought he could handle, but knowing why Gryffindor was silent made thihs a while different situation. The entire house was like a family.

Harry's stomach lurched and he leant over the toilet again. His throat burned and his eyes watered and his ribcage ached and where the bloody hell is his boyfriend?

The cold hand that was rubbing circles on his back was removed, only to be replaced by a warm one, and Lucifer's voice mumbled out, "Harry, you'll be fine." and _there's his boyfriend._ There's a cold hand on his cheek, tilting his head back, and a glass phial pressed against his lips. The liquid scorched his throat and Harry feels total deja vu right now as his glasses are held in front of him. He slides them on with a quiet thanks and Draco says, "It wasn't even loud." quieter than Harry said thanks.

"It was just too quiet."

Arthur Weasley was dead.


End file.
